Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)
She ignores me and kisses her sister on the forehead. “See you tonight, Vi.”
When she straightens, she glances at my hand and pauses, then takes it like a very good girl.
Not my hand, though.
Dahlia wraps both her palms around my wrist and pushes the sleeve of my pullover up, revealing the purple marks from the chain. Her eyes widen and I curse internally.
I was so hasty to come here, I forgot to wrap bandages around them.
“What happened?” Her voice is soft, but the alarmed look on her face stabs me worse than her words.
I don’t like pity in general, but I especially loathe it from Dahlia.
“Nothing you need to worry about.” I subtly tug my hand free and pull down the sleeve.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I cut her off, “Let’s get out of here.”
I catch a glimpse of Jude, who shakes his head.
Dahlia doesn’t resist as I guide her out of the room.
When I look back, Violet’s hand twitches on the sheet.
20
DAHLIA
Ican’t stop looking at Kane’s right hand.
The images of those deep-purple bruises and cuts on his wrist still play in my mind in haunting, disturbing strokes.
Especially since I already know he has multiple old scars slashing across his back.
Ever since I saw those bruises in the hospital, I’ve been watching him closely. I noticed his complexion is paler today, his lips slightly blue, and his eyes are colder.
What happened to him between last night’s game and this morning?
And why the hell am I so invested when I spent days trying to put a healthy amount of distance between us?
Kane’s ordeals should be none of my concern.
I lean back against Kane’s car, the metal cool against my spine as the frigid air bites into my skin. Not sure if I should even be touching his expensive-looking car. But when I attempted to stand away from him, Kane dragged me back to his side.
Below us, Graystone Ridge stretches out like a map, the town still cloaked in the last traces of night, rooftops and streets softened by the dawn’s dim light. The sun is just beginning to break through, casting a golden haze over the buildings, making everything seem almost peaceful.
As peaceful as this den of vipers could get.
The cool wind tugs at my hair, carrying the faint scent of pine from the woods behind us. And just for one suspended moment in time, it feels like we’re the only two people awake in the world.
“You’re staring.” Kane doesn’t look at me and, instead, eyes his convenience store sandwich as if it’s spoiled goods.
“Sorry.” I bite into my cheese and lettuce sandwich and follow with a long slurp of iced coffee.
“You better apologize for this travesty of food.”
“Well, no other place was open this early.”
“We could’ve gone to a proper restaurant.”
“And have you miss open skate? Stop being picky and just eat.”
He sniffs the bread before he takes a tentative bite.
“How is it?” I ask.
“Edible, but depressingly flavorless and not fresh.”
I laugh and hit his shoulder. “You’re such a snob.”
“For wanting fresh food?”
“That’s not a luxury all of us can afford.”
“You can from now on.”
My shoulders tense up. “I don’t need your charity.”
Funny because I didn’t mind when Isabella or Preston called me a charity case. Hell, I’m keeping my sister alive solely through charity that Kane’s family definitely pitches into.
But I don’t want him to look at me like that.
Not now.
Is it a stupid sense of pride? Something else?
While I can’t exactly put a name to it, I just don’t like it.
Kane must feel my aggression, because he shifts, his weapon of a body straightening as his eyes pin me in place. “You need to stop this line of thinking, Dahlia. I don’t consider it charity. I consider it taking care of you. All you have to do is accept it and quit getting your guard up.”
“I don’t know. Preston told me I’m just a charity case who will never make a full Vencor member, because only those of your standing are allowed in. So excuse me if I have my doubts.”
He faces me, his head tilting to the side, his voice dangerously low. “You believe Preston over me?”
I swallow the coffee trapped in my mouth, the sound echoing in the silence and only interrupted by the rustling leaves. “He seemed convincing.”
“Answer the question, Dahlia. Whose words are more important to you? Mine or Preston’s?”
I bite my lower lip but remain silent.
“If I say you’re not a charity case and Preston says you are, who do you believe?”
“You.”
“Then why do you stiffen every time I do something for you?”
“I’m not used to it,” I whisper, then lift my chin. “I’ve worked for everything I have, no matter how small it is. I don’t like owing others.”
“I’m not others.” He wraps his large hand around my throat, not choking, but holding me in place. “You’ll get used to what I give you and take it without objection.”